Page 36 of Love JD

My mouth opened in surprise. His eyes flitted down to my mouth and back up to my eyes. I saw the indecision in his gaze, that moment where he wasn’t sure if he wanted to do something about what he’d confessed.

Then the sound of a security alarm beeping off and the front door opening broke the spell. “Hello?” a woman’s voice called. “Zev?”

Zev straightened, his expression suddenly guarded. He looked down at me and back to the foyer just a second before a tall vision in white strode confidently into the kitchen. She wore a two-piece that was clearly designer, and her full, pouty lips had been glossed with pink that matched her rosy cheeks. She had enormous, heavily lashed eyes the same color as Zev’s, and her caramel-highlighted hair hung straight and sleek, tucked behind her ears.

She strode in confidently, like she belonged there, and pulled up short with a cute quirk of her well-defined brows. Her eyes traveled over me with interest. “Well, this is a surprise.”

Chapter eleven

Zev

Starla crossed her thin arms, her designer leather handbag hanging from her forearm and her brow arching in question. She looked immaculate, as always. It didn’t matter if she was standing in front of a boardroom or visiting for “fun.” She never had a brow hair out of place.

Isla jumped up from her seat on the stool, her body tensing up like a rusty mechanical doll. “Oh,” she whispered, her hands over her twisted towel.

I always bought extra-large towels that, on her, looked enormous, so I wasn’t sure what she was worried about. I’d seen more scandalous outfits at the Met Gala. “Starla,” I said with a note of disapproval coloring my tone, “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

“Well, I planned on surprising you,” she replied with an amused uptilt of her eyebrows. “Apparently, I should have called first.”

“You think?” I asked derisively.

“This looks like the ‘girlfriend’ I’ve seen so much about,” Starla barreled on blithely. She waved. “Hi, I’m Starla.”

Isla waved weakly. “Ah, hi. I, um, I’d better…” She didn’t finish her sentence. She just stood there rigidly, and I realized that she desperately wanted to run away, but her desire to appear polite had overridden her fear. I wanted to gather her in my arms and squeeze her until she stopped freaking out.

“Starla, this is Isla,” I said, hoping Starla would take a hint and leave. “She’s visiting for a few weeks.”

Isla rotated a questioning look to me. She didn’t have to speak for me to know what that look asked. Weeks?

Starla gave Isla a straight, white smile, the one that won her million-dollar deals all the time. “How lovely.”

“Um, well, I was just—” Isla gestured with her thumb toward the bedrooms.

“It was nice to meet you,” Starla replied, completely at ease.

With a glance my way that was full of questions and discomfort, Isla waved to Starla before walking briskly away to the hallway behind Starla. I sighed, leaning my hip against the counter with my arms crossing in irritation.

Starla turned an inquisitive, cat-like blink to me. “Well.”

“‘Well,’ what?”

“Well, I honestly didn’t think the tabloids were right,” she muttered with a flare of her heavily lashed eyes. She clacked across the hardwood floors, deposited her purse on the island, and sat in Isla’s seat. “I admit, I might have come over unannounced to see if the news held any truth.”

“It doesn’t,” I retorted, still glaring. “But even if you thought there was a chance it was true, then what the fuck are you doing in my house at ten o’clock at night?”

She shrugged innocently, her eyes a perfect sapphire blue. “I’d be lying if I wasn’t hoping to stay the night.”

“Starla,” I groaned, pushing away from the island to turn and find the tea bags. “We’ve been over this.”

“Are you telling me that one-nights aren’t allowed anymore?” she asked wryly.

“I’m saying call before you come barging in,” I growled. I hadn’t slept with her in months, so I knew this newfound interest in me was because of the goddamn tabloids. I opened a ceramic cannister and fished out two chamomile tea blends. “And definitely don’t do it hoping to catch me mid-fuck with a new girlfriend.”

“Ooh, you’re surly about this,” she murmured mildly, smiling. “What is Miss Teen America doing in a towel in your kitchen, then?”

I suddenly regretted every utterance of “kid” I’d jokingly used around Isla. “She’s Isla Valehart. My sister is dating her brother.” I dropped a tea bag unceremoniously into the mug in front of Starla. “And she’s here because I want her here. She needed some protection after the paparazzi took an interest in her. Which was my fault, by the way.”

Starla leaned her porcelain chin on her hand slyly. “I can see you’re protecting her quite intimately.”

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